


Hunting Grounds

by Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apparent Non-con, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Predator/Prey, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 08:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: When Voldemort grants his Death Eaters access to the Prison of Hogwarts for the annual celebratory hunt, Draco has one and only prey on his mind.





	1. Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DramioneFanfictionForum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneFanfictionForum/pseuds/DramioneFanfictionForum) in the [2019SoundsLikeDramione](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2019SoundsLikeDramione) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> "Gonna hunt you like an animal, gonna take your love and run..."  
Animal - Def Leppard
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but are property of JKR And Warner Bros and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> The prompt for my story was "Gonna hunt you like an animal, gonna take your love and run..." by Def Leppard.
> 
> I would like to thank my alpha and beta for their work. RooOJoy and I_was_BOTWP are angels and deserve all the love and recognition.  
This story won:  
Best Smut (co-winner)  
Runner up Best Use Of Prompt  
Song of the Year-Admins pick

* * *

Draco sneered at the shimmery thickness of the wards before him. His black cloak rippled in the wind as he let his eyes roam the distant ruins.

The wind howled, deriding the sweet irony of the joyless sight before him.

With a shiver, he pulled the lapels closer to his neck. Even though the pink spring dawn promised a lenient day, nature was roaring her breath across the flank of the mountain.

Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he fixed his gaze on the outline of what once was a safe haven for young minds to be nurtured and cared for. That was until Voldemort had wrecked it, turning it into a grave of sorrow. He had forged it into a prison for Muggle-borns and dissidents - all of them traitors alike.

The ancient castle was in shambles. The once imposing Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers and the Great Hall rested now in a heap of crumbled stone. The only sentinel left overlooking the Black Lake was the Astronomy Tower, and Draco glared at its resilience.

The grounds used to be green and welcoming, but they were no more. Slithering its dark limbs right up to the grey sides of the gothic walls, the Forest had taken over every nook and cranny. The malignant plants were like fingers wrapped around a throat, domineering and suffocating. It seemed like a miracle that the West Wing was still standing, although it looked ready to collapse under the weight of the ever growing Forbidden Forest.

Prisoners lived and died there, separated from the rest of the Wizarding world. No guards were needed as nobody without a Dark Mark could approach the wards without dying. The inmates bore a special runic tattoo on their arms that allowed them entrance once, killing all the magic within them - a macabre passage to their fate.

In his magnanimity, the Dark Lord allowed the Death Eaters free roam of the grounds only for a single day every passing year- Victory Day.

The barrier trembled, losing its sheerness and giving off a buzzing dying lament. A thrill of anticipation ran across Draco’s skin, for he knew that it was almost time for the annual Hunt in celebration of their triumph.

The Prison of Hogwarts was open, and it was Traitor Season.

His Mark prickled as he stepped through the weakened barrier, his feet immediately taking him on a brisk walk over the stony ground descending the slope of the mountain. He knew where to find her.

Every year, he stalked her.

In the months before the anniversary commemoration, he flew over the Hunting Grounds and observed her as she took the same path through the forest.

He hovered above the tall trees and studied her as she set up traps and obstacles for him.

She knew he was coming for her, and the mere thought of her preparing for him made his skin crawl with excitement. She was brilliant. Even without the aid of magic, she created the most intricate contraptions. His eyes had followed her labouring hands countless times as she knotted chords and vines, dug holes, and hid weapons that she had sharpened out of wood.

Her cleverness drew him to her like the scent of blood tempted a wolf. Too bad, all her effort was in vain. Hidden behind the curtain of the wards, he could map each and every one of her tricks.

If it pleased him, he could take his time to flush her out of her hideout. The other Death Eaters wouldn't dare touch her. In recent years, he had secured a claim on her. She was his per Voldemort’s orders, to compensate him for his dedication to his duties. Although nobody had the guts to go against the Lord's command or cross his right hand, he would not linger.

He strolled down the mountain, cloak lashing the air behind him, until the path through the vegetation opened to a small clearing. A poor, collapsed shack gave him a cold welcome as it lay there like crumpled parchment. It had once belonged to the half-giant simpleton who loved to play professor.

Draco circled the stone wall that enclosed the wild, fallow patch. The plants had swallowed everything in their wake since they had thrived without the ruling hand of the oaf.

The immense leaves of the magical vegetables made for the perfect shelter, if only Draco wasn't cheating and didn't know her plans.

A low chuckle marked the moment he spotted her. Behind the massive heads of the overgrown cauliflowers, like darkened leaves whipping in the wind, he caught a glimpse of bouncing curls.

His boots dug in the muddy soil as he came to a halt. Chest heaving from the excitement, he rolled his shoulders and kept his eyes fixed on the patch of leaves she had retreated in. With deliberate movements, he took off his cloak, the chill completely forgotten. He was buying his time to calm his strained breathing. Moreover, he had appearances to maintain. A Malfoy couldn't be seen panting and lusting like a canine. Although his groin knew that was exactly what he craved, for her to cry wolf while he hunted her down like an animal. The jacket of his suit swiftly joined the other abandoned garment on the ground.

“This is getting too easy. It’s like you’re eager for me to find you,” he hissed while he uncuffed and rolled up the sleeves of his black Oxford shirt.

A scoff confirmed her position while it shook her chocolate locks, only a little further down than he had thought.

“Is this the year? Will you finally give me a fair fight, Malfoy?” Her melodic voice danced in the wind.

Draco didn’t answer but loosened the knot of the tie around his neck. Her breath hitched before she spoke again. “Will you finally give me my magic back? Or are you too scared to lose in a fair fight?” She pulled herself up to stand tall as she shouted the last words. 

At the sight of her, Draco bit his lip. Only a scant dress with thin straps covered her lithe figure. Her choice of clothing was another sweet victory. Short, revealing dresses were his weakness, and she knew it. He was sure that she had thought of him as she dressed that morning, and it was enough to send a flush of blood to his groin. “It would never be a fair fight, love,” he argued as he extracted his wand from his dress trousers.

The frown that formed on her perfectly smooth forehead was adorable, and it sent another tingle right to his cock.

“Why?” The fire in her eyes burned like flames against a dark sky, and it consumed him.

“Because you wouldn’t hit me.” His snicker was low and husky.

His witch stomped her foot, her riotous curls swaying as she hurled herself over the enormous vegetables. “Try me, coward!”

His chest shook as he decided that it was going to be a good year for the hunt. Some of his platinum locks fell over his eyes as he laughed at her. “Your lies turn me on, love.”

Draco could almost see her blood boiling as she glared at him, her pride keeping her from giving in. He could tell that she had missed him as much as he had coveted her for a whole year as though he were a writhing heartbeat in the witching hour.

How he loved to rile her up before he pursued her like a prey year after year, but he would wait no more; his own blood was boiling too. He needed her skin between his fingers.

“I'll count to ten, witch. Then you'll be mine.”

Like lighting hidden among clouds, she zipped back, disappearing into the plants. She reappeared shortly as she jumped over the crumbling stone wall and immersed her petite figure into the forest.

He immediately set after her, not even giving her the courtesy of some advantage seconds.

He knew she would skim along the big hole she had dug and covered at the edge of the forest, hoping for him to fall in. With long strides, he ran up to the trap and effortlessly jumped over it.

"Nice try, love." He couldn't help taking the piss out of her.

The frustrated groan from somewhere close gave him the shivers. This was fun.

Leaves and twigs cracked under her trainers not so far in front of him, and he followed her trail into the thicket.

He dodged a few more traps, each time making a show of his survival skills. Every time, he could hear his lioness growling her exasperation. Although she was hidden from him, he could imagine with certainty how her eyes would glow with annoyance.

After he avoided a stretched vine, knotted around two trees, he finally saw the hem of her dress disappearing behind a crooked trunk.

Draco didn't like to use magic while hunting. Not in the spirit of fairness for her. Fuck that, he couldn't care less. The satisfaction of catching her solely because of his flesh and muscles, though, was priceless. The only spells he allowed himself were the ones that made the game more fun - for him, of course. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself while he hustled in her direction. He felt evanescent while he ran with the wind, as though he were a shadow in the dust. He had trained for this, and there was nothing that could stop him. He could go for hours without tiring, like a restless storm.

As he became one with nature, he let his most hidden desires run free. He became the animal that he was supposed to keep at bay, and he began hunting her like prey, panting behind her arse.

There she was, in front of him, her pale legs sprinting among the unearthed roots. The dress flew up with every step, revealing a flash of white knickers barely covering her abundant buttocks. Oh, he had missed the sight of that bouncing show. Her curls where everywhere as she eyed behind her in a feeble attempt to spot him. Although he revelled in the pursuit, the best things to savour during the hunt were the few, sweet instants before he caught her. The fear in her eyes as she heard his steps getting closer but saw no sign of him. Her shallow breathing delighted his ears while the scent of her aroused him as he trailed right behind her.

He stretched his arm forward, allowing his hand to wrap around a lock of her curls. Just before he could trap her in his grasp, she sprinted forward with a squeal. Oh, that was new. She didn't use to be so quick. Maybe she had trained too, in anticipation of their little kinky game.

"You are getting faster, love," he breathed out, his words as ragged as the air that hit his lungs.

"Or maybe you are getting slower, Malfoy." She released a giggle as she began zigzagging before him. She turned once, and her fear was gone and replaced with the determination to lose him. She winked at him as if she knew exactly where he was while her body changed direction once more.

The little minx was having fun too, and it was a delight to see. He licked his lips as he stayed at her heels.

He loved how she reduced him to a bundle of lust and desire. Fuck the Malfoy image or anybody who might see him in this state should the Disillusionment wear off. He was going to take her like a beast. He wanted her to take him too; he desired to submit to her strokes like a tamed wolf. He wanted to be her own animal.

With a growl, he pounced forward and wrapped his arms around her thin waist.

She screamed, and what a delightful sound that was. The fall on the ground was hard and painful, but he didn't let it stop him from pinning her down under his weight.

"Mine," he drawled in her ear.

"Not yet, Malfoy." She wiggled her bum underneath him, straining to find an opening to crawl away. The friction against his trousers was delicious, but he focused on stilling her. She scrambled among the leaves on the ground and found a rather large stick. Since Draco's arms were wrapped tightly around her, he couldn't shield himself when she swung the weapon behind her head and hit his shoulder.

On instinct, he rolled sideways while she pushed herself up and stumbled away.

He sneered as he sat up and stood, watching her arse jiggle away.

For as much as he cared about her, if she wanted to play rough, rough was what she would get. After all, in the immediate future, he would need her touch and not her affection.

With a low chuckle, he resumed his hunt, trying not to get distracted by the bulge in his briefs that was growing steadily. He found her again at the Whomping Willow's feet. The plant rested as lifeless as the castle behind it. It had died right after the Final Battle. Draco neither knew why nor cared to find out.

Granger stopped by the massive trunk, hesitating only for a moment before she disappeared into the tree hollow.

Draco laughed. She had just trapped herself. The secret passage leading to the Shrieking Shack had been long before discovered and destroyed.

As he entered the dead tree through a crack in the trunk, he squinted his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Humidity and musk entered his nostrils, engulfing his senses. Granger was nowhere to be seen, and a lightning bolt of excitement pulsed through him. "What does the clever witch have in store for the big bad wolf?"

A muffled giggle resonated within the cavity, and Draco could imagine her eyes twinkling in the darkness. He was growing impatient with each second passing, his fingers twitching around his wand as he contemplated casting a revealing spell and getting this over with.

He bit the inside of his lower lip while he spun around in the centre of the willow.

A whipping lash from his right startled him. As he turned his head in that direction, he never saw what was coming from the other side of the darkened room. Something cold and scratchy grasped his bare forearm and slipped the wand from his hold. The weapon fell and rolled away from him, disappearing into the blackness.

Draco kept his cool even when the Disillusionment Charm faded away. He knew that the tattoo on Hermione's skin kept her from using his own wand against him. As his eyes recognised who, or rather what was trapping him, more roots sprouted from the ground and coiled up his legs.

While his eyes narrowed dangerously at the vines at his feet, the one that had previously caught his left arm wrapped tighter around him and slithered up to his shoulder. The humid, cold flesh of the root made him shiver when it grazed his collarbone and followed his sternum down to coil around his torso. The buttons of his shirt snapped along with the plant's descent across his waist. It didn’t take long for the root to rip his shirt and bind both arms to his waist. The torn fabric pooled at his feet, leaving only his black tie to dangle loosely around his neck. He fought with all his strength. His muscles contracted and burnt with the effort, but the ancient willow was stronger.

When he gave up with a growl, he heard Hermione sigh from her hiding place.

Draco remained still like a cornered snake, studying his surroundings and trying to find the best way to counter-attack. His eyes scanned the knotted roots and the way they contorted and moved around him.

That was when she appeared to him at last, emerging from a hole like the sun peeking from the horizon.

"You look fit, Malfoy." Her gaze burnt his skin as it traced the lines of his exposed chest and abs. He quirked his brow once, his mind still racing to find a solution to his predicament.

To buy himself some time, he hoped to make her talk. “How do you control the willow without magic?”

Hermione's pupils shone in the darkness as she caressed one of the radixes, grabbing the whole girth and stroking it up and down once. The plant vibrated in her palm as though it were purring. The sight stirred his imagination, his cock aching to be the one being pet.

“When Riddle burned the library to the ground,” she spat his name with hatred, avoiding the name that still bore a Trace, “he forgot that Hogwarts always has a way to protect its students. The walls of the library are hollow, filled only with stacks and stacks of books that Rowena Ravenclaw hid for anyone clever enough to find them. She duplicated every single tome that the library hosted at her time, then devised a charm to continue the work after her passing. One of the books that survived the fire explained the magic that was used to charm the Whomping Willow. It’s actually a sad tale that includes a werewolf and his Animagi friends, but I won’t recaunt it now.”

Draco licked his lower lip as she encircled him, her supple legs climbing over the roots. While she stepped closer at each turn, Draco’s gaze followed the rising hem of her dress. There were some beads of perspiration on her chest, slowly cascading into her cushy cleavage, that made Draco salivate. He gulped as she stopped before him, just an arm's length away. He strained in his restraints, but his arms were growing numb as the plant kept squeezing tighter. “You haven’t answered my question. How are you controlling this fucking plant?” Although he kept squirming his torso, he was unable to escape the ensnaring force of the willow.

With a wicked grin, Hermione lightly tapped on a root. Draco felt the ground being swept away from beneath his feet as the magic tugged him backwards until his back hit the wall.

"The Willow fell in a dormant state when the castle crumbled. The book explained how to revive it. I’m the second person after the werewolf I mentioned to control this magnificent plant. It turns out that the kind of blood magic I used doesn’t require the casting of spells," she explained it in a disinterested timbre while she stalked toward him. She halted only centimetres from him. Her wild curls tickled his waist as her breath ghosted on his neck.

His smart witch was unstoppable. He was almost vibrating with the need to be touched by that glorious body and mind, and she seemed to understand it.

Looking up at him, she batted her eyelashes. Then, she pushed herself up so slowly that he thought he could die waiting. He huffed at the dimple of naughtiness that appeared above her plump lips.

Her mouth breathed on his jaw, just enough to drive him mad, and she hissed, “Now, Draco, _ you _are mine.” While his given name rolled on her tongue, it looked like sin on her red lips.

The sigh of relief that left his mouth when she tugged him down by the tie to press her lips on his own was shaky and breathless. Smiling against his skin, she sucked his lower lip between her teeth, biting lightly, and immediately laved at the sore spot.

Draco’s knees liquefied, and he was thankful for the support offered by the roots. That witch had driven him mad for an eternity, but year after year, he had discovered a new aspect of her that brought him down quite literally on his knees before her perfection.

The predator had become the prey, and he fully submitted to his new mistress as she unbuckled his belt. “Yes…” he whispered, and his plea of surrender vanished into her kiss.

With hurried jerks, Hermione divested him of his black trousers and briefs. The roots pulsed around his calves to slide his clothes down. In all his filthy fantasies about Granger, he had never imagined being stripped by a fucking plant, boots and all. His naked feet dangled just above the ground while she took hold of his freed erection. He gasped, and the loud sound drew a giggle out of her. After one year of dreaming about her hands on him when he wanked himself, he had almost forgotten how soft and small her hands felt around his cock.

Exposing his tip, she swiped the drops of lubrication that he knew had collected there and pumped him with both hands, squeezing tightly.

Draco stopped snogging her, his brain overtaken by the intense sensation. Her mouth peppered kisses along his chin and neck, and kept sliding lower. Her hair brushed his thighs as she knelt before him. One of her hands abandoned his cock and caressed a root. The willow pulled his legs slightly apart so that his groin could be in front of her gorgeous face - damn his height.

Her eyes met his, and he swallowed hard as she smirked.

“I missed your penis,” she whispered as she leant forward and rubbed her cheek on his tip. He almost laughed at her clinical, sedulous way to define his prick, but the blissful grin she bore as she worshipped him killed the bubble of laughter in the pit of his stomach.

Never leaving his eyes, she kissed him on the frenum, her tongue immediately lapping the same spot. Draco’s hips jerked forward, and she gladly opened her mouth to take him. The wet warmth that welcomed him blackened his sight. He let his head fall back against the wall behind him and relished in the way she licked and worked his tip, wrapping her lips around it and circling it with her tongue. Her hands had been still, but she soon started stroking up and down, driving him deeper into her mouth. Won by the urge to see the spectacle at his feet, he tilted his chin down and opened his eyes. When he could focus again, he looked at his shaft sliding back and forth in her mouth, each time deeper until he felt the back of her throat. He groaned as she gagged around him, his cock barely halfway in and a hand still wrapped around it. A satisfied smirk pulled at his lips.

Nothing prepared him for what she did next. She let go of him and took him in almost all the way, choking and gurgling on him. As if that wasn’t enough to drive him mad, Hermione brought her hands on her breasts, fondling and teasing herself.

With teary eyes, she drew back to take a breath, and he watched mesmerized as one of her hands slid lower between her thighs. He almost came on her face as her eyes fluttered shut the instant she found her core.

“Take that dress off, let me see you touching yourself.” He meant to sound assertive and confident, but his voice came out strained and husky.

The naughty temptress shook her head and brought her lips on him again. She moaned on his tip as her fingers worked her clit, and his chest heaved as he started panting.

“Granger, free me. I have waited a year to fuck you,” he breathed out. It wouldn’t do for his ego to tell her the truth, that if she didn’t stop, he would explode down her throat like a virginal teenager. Although she couldn’t blame him for it since it had been three hundred and sixty fucking five days, and her mouth felt better than he could dream.

Hermione let go of his cock with a pop, licking her lips while her eyes smoulder him like molten amber. She whimpered freely as she kept touching herself and he growled, bucking into his restraints.

“Let me go!” His voice thundered, and she finally stopped. The hem of her dress slid up as she moved her hand, gifting him with a glimpse of her soaked knickers. He had to bite his lip to keep an undignified mewl from escaping him.

As she stood, he released a victorious sigh, anticipating his imminent freedom. His cock was pulsing, screaming for attention.

Hermione stepped back, sliding her underwear down her legs and slipping her trainers through it. With a mischievous grin, she bent over to touch one of the vines. The bark on the wall behind him scraped the skin on his back as his body slumped down, the willow forcing him into a sitting position. The ground felt cold under his buttocks, and he scrunched his nose at the uncomfortable sensation. As a Pureblood gentleman, he was not used to laying bare in the wilderness. As much as he abhorred the thought of filth, he forgot about it steadfast when Hermione approached him. She stopped beside him and climbed over him with one leg.

With his head at her stomach level, he could smell her arousal. She was sweet and heavenly. Her hands grazed up her thighs as she rolled up her dress. He hummed when she revealed her glistening lips to him. He dipped his head, licking his lips as he tried to slither between her legs. The roots kept him from her delicious, dripping sex. He had never hated a plant this fucking much. He wished he could incinerate it.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Hermione dipped her arse down, lowering herself on him. “I need you inside of mhhh.” Her phrase crumbled into a moan as she took him into her tight core.

“Fuck.” Draco looked down at his cock slowly stretching her open. The heat that sheathed him felt like coming home after years of absence. She moved slowly at first, getting used to his size. He cast his gaze up at her; her dark eyes shone in the dim atmosphere. Her rhythm quickened as she bounced on his cock, her feet firmly planted to the ground.

She rode him like a goddess, holding herself up by the thick roots of the willow. He wished he could dig his fingers into her hips to slam her down harder, but he was powerless, his hands laying useless at the side of his arse. So he captured her lips and chased her tongue while the walls inside of her began fluttering. Her knees fell forward, and she rocked her hips against him. Draco looked her in the eyes, his balls tingling, as her walls clamped on him and she screamed her release into his mouth. Determined to fuck her himself, he focused on keeping his climax at bay.

She collapsed forward, her head nestling into his neck while the vines slid and tangled around them. Her chest was heaving against him as she tried to catch her breath.

He didn’t let her. “Get this fucking plant off me, now!” He finally managed to use a commanding timbre, the same he used while speaking to lesser Death Eaters.

Hermione chuckled on his skin, but pushed herself off him nonetheless. She stood on weak knees and smiled at his hard, pulsing cock. A light touch of her fingers told the roots to recede, and Draco was finally free.

The rush of blood into his limbs made him shiver, the numbness giving in to the burn, but he didn’t mind the pain. In a matter of seconds, he was up and charged her like an infuriated animal.

Hermione squealed as he grabbed her waist and pushed her backwards. It was her turn to be pinned against a wall. He assaulted her neck with teeth and tongue while his hands yanked the straps of her dress. While he slid the garment down her arms, his nails scratched her shoulders. He lifted his head and gave her a devilish grin as he spun her around and pulled her wrists above her head where he pinned them there with one hand. She was finally trapped and in his power. He let the other hand trail up her side and moved her wild curls from one shoulder. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, "Now, Hermione, _ you _ are fucking mine.”

Sneaking his arm around her chest, he pinched an already hardened nipple. “You better not have any more dirty tricks or-”

“Or what, Malfoy?” She squirmed in his grasp and pushed her delicious arse back into his erection. The friction against her velvety skin made him groan.

"What will you do to me?" she challenged him as she wiggled her buttocks. The movement brought his cock to nestle between her arsecheeks. He reached down to her core and stroked her clit, eliciting all sorts of mewls and whimpers from her. He kept grinding on her arse and biting her neck and shoulders as he brought her close to the edge again.

"You think you are punishing me, Draco?" Her words were strained and breathy, but still cheeky and defiant. Draco growled while he thought of all the ways he would like to deliver his punishment - spanking her came to mind, but he was not willing to put off his own pleasure any longer. He suddenly remembered that his tie was still dangling from his neck. He waited until she was close to coming before abandoning her sleek centre. She whined her frustration which made him snicker.

"Don't dare me, love." Draco pulled at his tie, unravelling the knot and slipping it off.

Unfortunately, he needed two hands for his plan so he freed her. Flustered as she was, she had no intention to escape him again. She reached behind her, looking for him, probably to pull his mouth onto her neck again. But he evaded her touch.

"Now, be a good girl and brace yourself on the wall," he ordered while he wrapped his tie around his right palm. He flung it around her waist and caught it, firmly coiling it around his left hand. She shuddered as the silky material tickled her skin. Winding the tie once more around his hands, Draco yanked her hips back so that she had to bend over and stick her arse out. 

He positioned his cock at her entrance and slammed inside her with no warning. She cried out as he immediately started pounding into her. Instead of grabbing her by her hips, each of his hands held on to his coiled tie, pulling her onto him with each of his trusts so that he could take her deeper and deeper.

She was panting and trying to talk, but only nonsense came out. "Yes...Draco...so good. Ah!"

He knew he was hurting her, but she didn't seem to mind the pain.

This was by far the hottest fuck they had ever had, and he was struggling to hold his cool. With a delightful moan, she finally came around his cock, and he followed her. Draco spilt himself into her with a low growl, his tie wrinkled in his grasp.

When they both collapsed on the dusty ground, he fetched his wand and transfigured a cot out of their discarded clothing. Hermione nestled against his side, and he pulled her close by her waist. Burying his nose in her fragrant curls, he fell into a state of semi consciousness.


	2. Diminuendo

* * *

Draco awoke with a jolt, his hands searching for the body that was supposed to be beside him. He rustled the sheets, desperate to find his wand for some illumination.

"I'm here, Draco."

Draco released a shaky breath as he finally saw her naked figure leaning on the hollow in the trunk.

"Why have you let me sleep? We can't waste the little time we have together!" He pushed himself up and off that uncomfortable bed.

His legs felt heavy and tired as he dragged himself towards her. He inhaled her scent while he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her shoulders close to his chest.

Hermione sighed, slightly turning to plant a kiss on his jaw. "You dozed off for only half an hour. I couldn't sleep. I never can on this day."

Her eyes glazed over as she stared into the thick forest before them. Draco tightened his hold and leaned his chin on her messy head. He knew all too well what it meant to never settle at night. The things he was forced to do to keep his position of power and security haunted his dreams and turned his waking hours into nightmares. But that was the price a turncoat had to pay, he supposed.

"I miss Harry." Her confession slipped away in the wind as she trembled in his arms. He hummed and stroked her stomach in a feeble attempt in solidarity. He too had lost a friend during the Battle, but he never let his mind dwell on what Crabbe's life could have been, had he not been so idiotic to cast Fiendfyre in a room full of dusty relics.

He understood her pain, though. Anniversaries are always tough, and this one was the worst of all. Perhaps, this year he could make it slightly less painful for her.

As much as he craved for her body, and his cock was doing a mighty job in reminding him of just that, they had important matters to discuss. She seemed to know what twirled inside of his brain because she turned in his hold and looked up at him, a question flashing in her eyes before she voiced it.

"What news from the outside have you brought with you this year?" A tiny smile dug a pretty dimple on one of her cheeks, and he almost succumbed to the urge to steal it with a kiss.

This was how they grew closer in time. This was the way he stole her for himself: by hunting her down to keep her safe from other Death Eaters and by offering her glimpses of the outside world that was to her forbidden since she had been trapped in the Prison after the Battle of Hogwarts. He briefly recalled the first time he had captured her, the fear in her eyes when she thought he would kill her or worse, and the confusion when he sat down next to her bound body and talked to her about the Resistance. It took years for her to trust him, or at least he hoped she did, but they managed to build an uncanny, fucked up relationship in the mad world Voldemort had crafted.

He banished away his thoughts with a sniffle. There was no time for romantic memories. They never had that luxury.

"The Dark Lord is making preparations for the submission of Muggles."

Her eyes narrowed at the epitome he used for Voldemort, but he never knew anything else to call him, and Riddle didn't sound right to him.

"Why now? It's been ten years."

"You might have noticed an increase in the number of prisoners brought here in the past couple of years."

She nodded. "Yes. I wish they could have taken information along with them."

That was another cruel joke pulled by the wards around the Prison of Hogwarts. Any knowledge of the Resistance going on outside and of Voldemort's doing was wiped out of the inmates’ memories the instant they stepped inside.

"That's what I'm for, love." He leant down and brushed her lips with his, his hands dipping into her hips. He chuckled when she shivered against him.

"Anyway, the Lord thinks he has finally wiped out the rebels and can focus on the Muggle world, but nothing is farther from the truth. I'm still out there." He gave her a smug smirk.

Hermione scoffed and hugged him, placing her ear against his fast paced heart. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "I find it hard to believe that you run both Riddle’s forces as a day job and the rebels as a hobby. Who's leading the Resistance these days?"

"I'll tell you later." He winked as he walked them backwards. Standing naked in the spring breeze was frigid, even with her hot body pressed against his.

They slumped on the cot. He rested his back on the scratchy bark, pulling her to sit between his legs. He could not bear not having her flush against his skin.

“And now for the juicy news,” he hissed, his fingers tickling her nipples. She wiggled and tittered, her buttocks deliciously pressing on his hardening cock.

He forced his mind to focus and announced, "I found a way to get you out."

She stilled, only her neck snapping sideways and arching so that she could stare him right in the eyes. The fierce determination of a lioness shone in her amber irises, but bewilderment and unsureness tainted them.

With a patronizing grin, he furrowed his brow. "You are not the only one that can read a book of spells, my favourite bookworm."

"Don't be silly. Are you serious?" Her voice rose and she spun around, wrapping her legs around him.

It took all of his focus not to think of her sex so close to his. He took a deep breath and blurted out something that was supposed to sound snarky. "Yes, and no. I do have a way to allow you out of the wards, but I'm not stupid enough to think you'll come with me today."

Hermione tilted her head, confusion evident on her heart shaped face. "What do you mean?"

She moved in his lap, and his cock came into contact with her most heated place between her legs. He couldn’t think straight with her sprawled in his lap. He looked at the wooden ceiling of that large tree hollow and tried to explain. "I know you. If I free you now, you won’t come with me. You'll want to stay and help everyone in the castle and train them for what we are to do next year."

"You are not making any sense, Draco." Her folds were getting wet and slick against his flesh.

_ Fuck. Shit. _ He needed to move. Gently, he stirred her to his side, pulling her shoulder to his chest. Now, he had a perfect view of her perky tits, damn her perfect body. This witch drove him mad. Somewhere inside him, he dug up the will to put a coherent sentence together. "I found a way to reproduce the Dark Mark."

Hermione almost jolted out of his hold. "Yes! I've been researching for years but the library contains no book supplying information about magical tattoos. If you teach me the spell, I can mark each and every one of the prisoners and next year we can escape and join the Resistance." With no regard for his mighty effort to tame his animal instincts, she had perfectly explained what he had been trying to tell her all along. Somehow, he managed to remember that he had tried to express his concern about her not wanting to leave with him.

"Point proven. Fifty points to Gryffindor’s bushy haired girl that wants to save the day. My Slytherin heart tells me to just mark you and steal you away though."

She sighed, finally understanding his troubles. "You can't do that. The cause is more important, Draco."

"I know." Fuck that, but he knew. He shifted slightly and reached for his wand. Arching it in the air, he summoned a small package, bundled in brown paper. It came flying from his transfigured trousers and landed on the palm of his hand. He used an Engorgio Spell on it, and it blew out to the size of a large trunk. Having to let her body go was hard, but he had to move to kneel before the package. His curious kitten followed him, and he felt her shoulder brushing his arm.

As he ripped the paper open, she gasped and brought two hands on her lips. He looked down at her shiny eyes, and his heart fluttered erratically. Draco couldn’t help a smile as she reached for the first item. It was a large leather bound book, the cover kept closed by a silver ribbon. Tied in the knot, there was a vinewood wand with an intricate leaf pattern engraved on the light coloured grain.

In awe, he watched her lifting the tome and placing it on her lap with religious care. With pursed lips and teary eyes, she unravelled the ribbon and picked up the wand. Her fingers trembled. She felt the length of it and brought it to her chest, next to her heart, while her eyelids fluttered shut. Two beads of joy trailed down her cheeks as she released a long contented sigh. Draco remembered when his mother had brought him back his own wand, pried from the cold fingers of Harry Potter.

He felt ashamed of himself when he ruined her sacred moment, but there was more they needed to discuss. He gently touched her arm and pointed at the box when she opened her eyes. It was full of wands. “The Snatchers discard them in the cellar at the Manor after capturing traitors. The book has many Dark Spells. One of them teaches how to brand someone’s skin with magic. I made a notation with the specific incantation for the Dark Lord’s mark.”

She nodded, one hand dropping to the book. "I'm not sure how I feel about having the Dark Mark on my skin. Won't Riddle be able to track us down?"

Draco encircled her shoulders and pulled her back on the cot. "No. It's just a communication device. You will probably hear all his orders to the Death Eaters and his summons once you are out. While you are here, I think the Mark's magic will be dampened by the barrier, but I can't be sure. He never calls upon us during the Hunt."

She eyed him for a moment, her marvellous brain recording all he had told her. "Can you bring us all to the resistance? There are hundreds of us."

With a grin, he stated with confidence, "Yes. I'll set up enough Portkeys to send you all to Bulgaria in one swoop. Next Victory Day, the Death Eaters won't realise a thing until they hunt the prison in vain for the day."

Her eyebrows knitted together as she asked, "Bulgaria? Is Viktor the leader?"

He could feel his face hardened at the mention of him. With a grunt of unnecessary jealousy, he snipped, "Yes. Ask me how happy I am to deliver you to your ex-boyfriend."

"You are coming with me." She dug the tip of her wand in his lateral abs with a light hearted chuckle.

"Not right away." He didn’t manage to respond to her playful tickling. He blew some air out before he spoke again. That was it. He was about to tell her the most important piece of information he had this year. He placed a hand on her cheek. "There's something else I need to tell you. And you need to promise me to not relay it to a soul. Not even Weasley. Even if he's a soulless ginger."

She glared at his insult, but he was not joking. He didn’t let her finish when she tried to speak. "I can't keep info-"

"You need to promise. My mother's life is at stake. And that should prove how much trust I put into you...us." His thumb and forefinger pinched her lower lip lightly, his gaze dropping there. He swallowed as he waited for a reaction.

"I do." And it resonated within the willow like a vow.

There was no easy way to tell her this. "I need to free Potter before I...hopefully, _ we _ join you in Bulgaria."

He watched her perfect mouth slack open as she flinched.

"Potter is alive," he spelled it out.

Silence answered him. Her eyes searched him, bouncing between his own. And he could clearly see the image of a limp body dancing before her eyes. He tried to explain further.

"When he went on his moronic, suicide mission in the forest, the Lord asked my mother to verify if he was dead for real. She lied, confirming his death, in exchange for the knowledge that I was still alive and in the castle."

She remained quiet, and he took it as an invitation to continue.

"Before the big oaf was forced to carry Harry's body to be displayed before all of the fighters, the Lord cast a stasis charm on what he thought was Potter's cadaver."

Her stillness began to worry him.

"He's been showcased in the Ministry Atrium ever since. Like a symbol of power and a warning against dissidents."

She snapped out of her daze like a severed violin chord. Her wild hair billowed around her shoulders as she stood and shouted. "Why haven't you told me this before?"

He also pushed on his palms to stand, his arms immediately crossing over his chest. "Because my mother has just confessed what she did. I found out only a few months ago. She figured out that I'm a turncoat and, after she tried to dissuade me with no success, she reluctantly agreed to share that information with me. As per why I haven't told you about the Atrium shadow box...well, sorry for believing that knowing your best friend has been used in that fowl manner would hurt you."

If anybody had entered the hollow in that instant, they would find them facing each other in a hostile position, their eyes glowering in a glaring battle and their bodies unapologetically naked.

Hermione began pacing in front of him, her feet stomping. He almost laughed at her exaggerated antics. Then she started babbling and doing what every Gryffindor would do in this situation: she let herself get caught in planning an idiotic quest.

"I'm coming with you. Mark me now. I'll run to the castle and teach Ron the spell so that next year everyone can leave."

The sting of jealousy burnt his insides like lava tongues. Of course, she would leave everybody behind for the Chosen-Boy-Who-Sacrificed-Himself-Like-A-Fucking-Fool. Not for him, the man who kept her safe and fed her information for ten years, but for Harry _ fucking _ Potter.

The sand granules were running scant in their tiny hourglass. He couldn’t, and simply refused to, spend their time arguing. He grabbed her arm, stopping her furious padding. "Granger. It took me a month to learn it. Despite the fact that I believe in your talent, I doubt you can learn it in a couple of hours. Nevermind instructing the ginger Weasel."

"Then you teach Ron." She spat the words in his face with spite. Refusing to see the bigger picture.

He was genuinely amused by her outburst. He laughed at her impossible reasoning. "I hope you are joking. Does he know that you love to bounce on my big cock yet?"

Her eyes turned into slits. "No, and there's no need for you to be so crass about it."

"Doesn't change the fact that I won't waste my time explaining to him why we are together and teaching him a Dark spell…"

Disappointment drained her cheeks of their rosy colour, and she finally comprehended that his plan was better. Waiting another year was for the best. Preparation took time and precision. They couldn't waste the only chance they had doing stupid shit.

She slumped against him, her shoulders shaken by forlorn sobs. He let her toss it all out on him, keeping her close to his heart. When her distraught faded, she tilted her chin up and planted a sloppy, humid kiss on his jaw. She pushed him backwards until they could both lie on their fortune bed.

Her petite hand wrapped around his cock with no warning. She staked a claim on his mouth as he caught his breath in surprise. Without a word, she pulled him onto her, and he gladly shifted and found his place in the warmth between her legs. That’s where he felt whole.

She wanted another carefree moment before the inevitable, and he wouldn't deny her, or himself, of that. Her eyes were on him as he sunk into her, and they never left his as he made love to her in a tree hollow.

* * *

"It will hurt."

Draco studied the runes on her left forearm, readying himself to cast the spell that would Mark her forever.

"It can't hurt more than what I've been through in the past ten years." Her breath was short and antsy.

Despite his own anxiety at the thought of inflicting such pain on her, he managed a smirk. "I beg your pardon. It wasn't all bad. Once a year you have been graced by my divine presence."

The sheepish grin Hermione gave him kept him from spiralling down the fiery memory of his own marking. That day would forever be his shame.

"_Sacrificio_ _Serpentem Obscuritatis Inurere_." The words sounded foreign on his lips as they rolled and coiled like a serpent. The tip of his wand executed an intricate dance in the air.

His fierce witch braced herself behind the huge boulder they were using as a shield from spying eyes. He had also cast a series of protective enchantments since the wards kept him from spotting any prying enemies on the other side of the wards. Dark Mark or not, the Dark Lord made sure nobody could get a glimpse of the outside world.

She whimpered as the Dark Mark sizzled and burned her flesh. The runes that had branded her as a prisoner faded into her forearm as the serpentine opprobrium Voldemort had created permeated her soft skin.

She remained still for a while, her chest heaving. He could nothing but support her by her waist while the agony slithered off her.

The wards beside them vibrated. It was time for him to go.

Their eyes met, and hers were already glittered.

"I wish you could stay." Her whisper was almost a plea.

"I wish you could come." His hands pressed on her cheeks possessively as he leant towards her red lips.

He sighed and kissed her, his mind resolute to endure the heartache one more year.

They had waited so long for a chance to fight back. They could make it longer. Only one more year of faking loyalty to the Dark Lord and then they could be reunited. Whether they would live or die together was not yet to be foreseen.

Draco abandoned her lips and walked backwards, slipping through the invisible barrier, his gaze set on his witch until the wards came alive with full force. She lost sight of him, and he averted his eyes for only a second until her trembling voice called him to her again.

"I love you." She cast in the wind, panic in her eyes, for she didn't know that he could still hear her, and she didn't miss her chance to confess it.

He smirked as his heart sore in his chest.

"Until I hunt you down like an animal again." Aware that she couldn't hear him, he simply took her love and ran away.


End file.
